LUST: A Bad Boy and Amish Girl Romance (The Brody Bunch Book 2) (39 page)

H
oly shit
!

Kellan saw me. He’d looked my way, and he actually
saw
me, here in this mass of sweaty, drunken people. And now he was getting his ass kicked, where a moment before, he’d been poised to take the win. I couldn’t help but feel like somehow, this was all my fault.

I winced as the Hispanic guy in the blue shorts kicked Kellan so hard in the ribs that his body left the mat for an instant. Beside me, Thom cringed and sucked his teeth. “This is bad,” he said over the chaos of the crowd. “Your guy’s done for.”

Great,
I thought, clinging tighter to Thom’s side as the audience pushed in around me.
And I was hoping to catch him in a good mood…

Looking around, it was little wonder Kellan had recognized me. Just as I’d feared, I did
not
belong here. The women surrounding me were all wearing very revealing clothes with jeans so tight they left nothing to the imagination, or otherwise, skirts that showed the bottoms of their asses if they bent over just a little too much. The best I’d been able to do on such short notice was a black tank top, a push-up bra, and some Daisy Dukes that made me look more like a bumpkin than an underground fighting fan. Thom hadn’t fared much better—even in a t-shirt and jeans, he still looked like a hipster. Maybe it was the beard and curled-up moustache.

There was a girl near the ring, standing next to a bald guy Thom had pointed out to me earlier as one of the managers. She was just as wide-eyed as I was, screaming for Kellan to get up, to “murder the fucker.” The glitter on her skin sparkled in the dim light and made the pout of her lips all the more prominent. Was that his girlfriend? She looked worried enough that she might be.

My heart fell. That woman was curvy with a tiny waist and
huge
tits, and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt any of it, either. How the hell was I supposed to compete with that?

Would you get over yourself?
I thought as Kellan rolled onto his belly and spat blood onto the mat in front of him.
He’s dying out there! You have to do something!

But what the hell was I supposed to do? This was a fight—an illegal fight. I couldn’t very well rush the ring and jump on his opponent’s back. That would, at the very least, be cheating. Also, humiliating. Probably for everyone involved.

“Come on, Kellan,” I whispered instead, feeling helpless as I watched the fight unfold. “Come on…”

As though he’d heard me, Kellan lifted his head and looked my way again. Something flashed in his hazel eyes just as the Hispanic guy went in for the kill.

Kellan grabbed his opponent’s ankle and twisted hard, knocking him off balance. The guy fell and Kellan forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth as he took a second to recover. He was hurting bad—I could tell from the way he was holding his side, and he wasn’t bouncing on the balls of his feet anymore. He was out of energy, and maybe out of time, but he wasn’t going down without a fight.

I was in awe. How could someone come back from that? How could they endure so much trauma, so much pain, and still put their fists up?

It was like Kellan had caught his second wind. Maybe he wasn’t the Energizer Bunny anymore, but he was making headway all the same. When the Hispanic guy came at him again, Kellan was ready, and he wasn’t taking any shit, either. He blocked when he needed to, dodged when he could, and waited for his opening, his jaw set, eyes ablaze.

“Look at that,” Thom said beside me. “Maybe I shouldn’t count him out yet, after all.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I breathed. “Have you?”

Thom shook his head. “No. Your guy’s way out of his league here, and he’s taken a serious beating. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got a cracked rib or two under all those bruises. But look at him go. What a beast.”

Yeah,
I thought, unable to keep my eyes off his sweaty, bulging muscles.
A real animal…

And just like that, it was over. Kellan took a mighty blow to the face, but used his opponent’s momentum against him and managed to hit him hard upside his head in return. The guy fell, knocked out cold, his eyes rolling into his skull and his body limp. He bounced like a rubber ball and Kellan let out a breath, stumbling back a step as the ref dropped down to count the guy out.

“Killer Kellan wins!”

Killer Kellan.
I hadn’t totally understood it before, but now, after seeing him in action, it made perfect sense. The guy was incredible. Like he was made for this.

But even in the midst of rejoicing, he looked somehow… sad. I saw that same flash of pain I’d seen in him the day we met at the bar. There was something more to the story, here. I just had to find out what.

I started to move toward the ring, but the girl I’d seen before was already slipping between the ropes and rushing to Kellan’s side, jumping up and down so that her massive, bountiful breasts jiggled like Jell-O shots. She slid her hand into Kellan’s and entwined their fingers, and I felt my stomach knot.
I guess she
is
his girlfriend, after all.

Then he pulled away from her, called his manager over, and pointed. Right at me. That pain was gone, replaced by fury. Heat rose in my face.
Shit.
Kellan did not look happy to see me.

“Thom,” I said, regarding the big, burly men working their way through the crowd toward me, “what do I do?”

“What do you do?” he laughed. “Go with it! Now’s your chance to get the inside scoop. And while you’re gone, I’ll work my angle.”

I nodded, trying to look braver than I felt. In reality, butterflies had taken flight in my stomach and I was getting a little dizzy. When one of the hulking men closed their fingers around my wrist, I almost yelped.

“Killer wants to see you in the winner’s room,” he said, his whiskey breath thick in my ear. “You wanna go, or are you gonna disappoint the man?”

I made a face. Coercion? Sexy. “I’ll go,” I said anyway, letting the meathead lead me through the crowd, parting bodies with the expanse of his broad shoulders. I trailed along behind in his wake, my pulse racing with each new step we took.

What was Kellan expecting of me? Did he think I was here to fuck him? Or was he onto me, pissed that I’d show up? He certainly hadn’t looked happy. That scowl could’ve killed a man. But maybe he was still coming down from the adrenaline rush of nearly beating his opponent to death. Maybe being alone in this “winner’s room” with him wouldn’t be so bad.

Down a long hallway so far from the crowd that I could barely hear them now, I stumbled into the winner’s room. The guy and his friend closed the door behind me with a little nod, as if the bed with its freshly washed sheets should have told me all I needed to know about what went on in here.

I took a few deep breaths, and with each one, my stomach knotted even more. The waiting, the anticipation, was
murder.
My thoughts kept drifting between the anger in Kellan’s eyes and the expectation of what I was supposed to do in here with him. My face flushed, and suddenly the room felt very small.

Jesus. After a fight like that, a girl couldn’t help but wonder about what Kellan would be like in bed. Would that aggression translate into a rough fuck between the sheets? Would he manhandle me like a rag doll, pounding into me so hard I wouldn’t be able to walk? Would he leave bruises on my thighs, on my hips, even on my shoulders in a way that would have me dreaming about him for years to come? Would he pull my hair and spank me, turn me out, leave me a puddle of satisfaction and desire smoldering on the floor?

Stop,
I told myself.
Focus on the story.
But my mind didn’t want to linger there. It wanted to delve back into that illicit fantasy, the one where Kellan’s hard body was pinning me to the mattress and making me scream. Was he just as dogged and bloodthirsty in bed as he was in the ring? And could I even handle it, if he was?

I jumped damn near two feet in the air when he opened the door and slammed it behind him, his eyes ablaze. Kellan must have come straight here from the ring. He was still bloody and bruised, his muscular physique covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His scent was powerful, overwhelming, all musk and fire. The tattoo on his chest, the Marine Corps motto and symbol, looked bolder than ever with all that adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The way he was looking at me, no man had ever looked at me before. It was like he was simultaneously trying to stare into my soul and undress me with his eyes. Kellan’s stare was actually palpable, like a caress that ran the length of my body, stealing into all my most intimate places and lingering there. My knees went a little week and my panties clung to me as I parted my lips to speak, to offer some excuse for tracking him down.

But Kellan spoke first, snarling so low I could feel the rumble in my chest. “Parker—what the
fuck
are you doing here?”

What
was
I doing here? Holy hell, this was a bad idea. I really hadn’t thought this through. Kellan had been right when he’d told me before that I didn’t belong here, that this wasn’t my world. But I’d been too stubborn to listen to him. Just like my dad, I was pigheaded through and through.

Kellan stepped closer to me, his hands balled into fists, his eyes narrowed. “Well?” he prompted.

I couldn’t tell him I was here because I was interested in him. That would have been both unprofessional and humiliating. And he probably would have thought I was a crazy person. I mean, who does this kind of thing just because they like a guy, especially a guy who’s already said he just wants to be left alone?

But I couldn’t tell him about the story, either. Not without making him angrier than he already was.

I gave Kellan the only answer I could, one that was as honest as it was shameful. “I… I really don’t know.”

I
don’t know
?
That was her excuse? That wasn’t fucking good enough!

“You don’t belong here, Parker,” I hissed, closing the distance between us until I towered over her. “This isn’t your world. For fuck’s sakes, look at you. You could have gotten hurt.”

“Hurt?” she said, cocking her head. It made her hair fall down in such a perfect way that it took every iota of self-control inside me not to reach down and brush a lock of it back behind her ear.

“Yeah,
hurt,
” I repeated, pointing in the direction of the crowd we’d both just escaped from. “Those guys out there, the ones who come to places like this? They’re mostly assholes, Parker. They don’t play nice. And a woman like you, with those innocent eyes and legs for days—you might as well have walked in here with a goddamn bullseye painted on your tits.”

Parker snorted and shook her head. “Relax. I came here with a friend.”

A new rush of rage swelled inside me. Yeah, I’d seen her
friend—
the objectively good-looking guy whose arm she’d been dangling off of during the fight. He stuck out almost as much as she did.

“What the fuck were you doing with that tool, anyway?” I snapped before I could stop myself. I had no claim to her. In fact, I’d done nothing but push her away. But seeing Parker with another man made my blood boil. Whether or not that was rational was an entirely different story.

“Thom?” she asked. “He’s the one who brought me here. I wouldn’t have known where to look, if it wasn’t for him.”

“Seems like your
boyfriend
doesn’t have your best interests at heart, if he brought you here,” I sneered.

Parker blinked at me a moment. Then she laughed. My cock twitched at the sound and I clenched my fists at my sides. Goddamn, I wanted to kiss her and put my fist through that fucker, Thom’s, face all at the same time.

“Thom’s not my
boyfriend,
” she said, finally tucking that wayward blonde strand behind her ear. “Though he does have one of his own.”

The inferno inside me died down just a little. I felt my jaw relax. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been clenching it. “Oh. Shit. Really?”

“Really,” Parker affirmed with a nod. “Just got engaged a few months ago, actually. Trust me, Kellan, I wouldn’t have brought a boyfriend here to see you.”

I raised a brow. “And why not?”

“Because…” She trailed off, mouth slightly open as she hesitated. I could just imagine capturing her lips like that, pressing her back against the wall and slipping my tongue into the sweet ecstasy of her mouth. And then slipping something else in there, too. “Because I wanted to talk to you alone, and I imagine boyfriends get jealous over that sort of thing.”

I felt my dick harden even more, despite my attempts to keep it down.
Traitor.
It knew what to expect once in this room, and I’d been thinking of Parker for a long damn time now. It was animal instinct. And I was just barely controlling it.

“You imagine, huh? So you don’t have one?” I asked her. “A boyfriend, I mean.”

Parker shook her head and averted her eyes. The flush on her cheeks told me she was a little embarrassed about that fact. “No.”

All kinds of thoughts immediately crossed my mind. Was this goody two-shoes a virgin? No, she didn’t strike me as
that
naïve, although given the fact that she was here in the winner’s room with me, I still questioned her judgment. She was probably just inexperienced, then, probably the high-strung girl who put her career before everything else, especially men. What’d she say she was back at the bar—a writer? Shit, she probably wrote romance. That was what most women writers who needed a good fuck did.

Fuck, I had to stop thinking like this. Parker was inserting herself into a dark place she was never meant for, one that would chew her up and spit her out if she wasn’t careful. I cleared my throat and moved away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to put some distance between us again.

“No wonder you’re here,” I grumbled. “You don’t have anyone to talk some damn sense into you.”

“So are you mad because I might have had a boyfriend, or because I don’t?” Parker asked, folding her arms over her chest. The way it pushed her tits up finished the job on my dick—I was rock hard now. “Because it seems like you can’t decide.”

“I’m mad because you don’t fucking listen,” I told her, doing my best to hide my stubborn, throbbing erection. “I’m mad that you’re here at all, after I told you to stay the hell away.”

“I can’t do that,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but…”

“Why the hell not, you don’t even know me!” I threw my hands up, frustrated, showing off the blood and inky bruises all over me. “Why the hell can’t you stay away from this, Parker? Don’t you know what’s good for you?”

“Because I want to get to know you,” she answered, ignoring my injuries and looking straight into my eyes. “I didn’t get a chance to at the bar. You didn’t
give
me a chance. And I want one, bad enough that I’d show up here, at a place like this.” She scuffed her foot a little against the floor. “You never called me. So what choice did I have?”

I leaned back on my hands. She’d been waiting for my call, huh? That was new. Usually women walked in and out of my life on a whim—at least, these ring girls sure as hell did. Having a chick pursue me was definitely not something I was used to.

I hated to admit it, but I kind of liked it. I liked how stubborn Parker was. I liked that she didn’t listen. I liked how it frustrated me and how stiff my dick got every time that happened. I wanted to pound it into her, to break that stubborn streak and have her mewling and begging for my touch.

Shit. She was in my head. And if I didn’t stop thinking like this, she was gonna notice how she was making me feel pretty damn quick.

One look at her face told me it was already too late. Parker was staring at my dick, at the tent it was making in my shorts. I didn’t know whether to adjust it or put a pillow over the damn thing, but she didn’t look disgusted. If anything, she looked
awed.

Just like how she’d looked at me while I was in the ring: eyes wide, lips parted. Fuck, what I would’ve given to have them wrapped around the head of my cock… to fill that smart mouth of hers with my…

“You didn’t have to go all stalker,” I said to turn off the thoughts racing through my head. I couldn’t help wincing as I sat back up. Goddamn, my ribs were killing me. At least the pain didn’t make me think about fucking Parker so much. “Like I said, this place, this world, could be bad for your health. Hell, so could I.”

“How will we know unless you give it a chance?” she asked me.

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. She really wasn’t going to give this up. As I winced again, she sat down on the bed beside me, gingerly perching there on the edge as she grazed her fingers across my arm.

“Let me see,” she said, her nails leaving goosebumps in their wake.

With a grimace, I lifted my arm up over my head, exposing my ribs. I could tell without even looking that they were a mess. I could
feel
it. Parker brushed her fingertips over the swollen parts, her touch so gentle I hardly even felt it, save for another stirring between my legs. I was just starting to imagine her nails raking down my back when she diverted her attention to my hands. My knuckles were bleeding through the wrappings.

“Why do you care so much?” I asked as she slowly began to unwind the tape. “Between what I do for a living and the way I’ve treated you, most girls would’ve run screaming by now.”

“I’m not most girls,” Parker replied, finally exposing my fucked up hands.
Ain’t that the truth?

“Is there any hydrogen peroxide here?” she said. “Any bandages?”

I jutted my chin toward the bathroom door. “In there. Under the sink.” I knew because I’d patched myself up plenty of times in this room after the girls left, but never before had one offered to actually take care of me themselves.

Parker stood and gathered her supplies, and when she returned to my side, the look of concentration on her face was too goddamn adorable for words. She saturated a few cotton balls with the hydrogen peroxide and gently applied them to my knuckles, ignoring my grunts and growls as the liquid bubbled and fizzed on my fresh cuts.

“Stings,” I muttered.

Parker smirked. “I think you can handle it,” she said.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I liked the way she made me feel, even if it hurt a little. As she rubbed Neosporin on my hands, I blew out a long breath and relaxed, studying her face. Goddamn, she was beautiful. There wasn’t a single thing about her that wasn’t angelic. The gentle bow of her lips. Her long, thick lashes and the way they fluttered over her bright blue eyes. The arch of her brows. The slim curves of her body. Parker was a diamond in the rough, and she’d come all this way for me. To find
me.
I wasn’t sure what good deed I’d done lately to deserve this, but I was starting to think maybe I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You really want to get to know me?” I asked her as she met my gaze. “Like… for real?”

Parker nodded. “Everything. Every last detail.”

I watched as she wound some gauze around my knuckles. “We can’t do that here,” I told her. “Like this. In this place, I have to be someone else. I have to be Killer Kellan, the monster, the beast. Every other fighter’s worse nightmare. Not Kellan Jarvis, complex human being.”

“I like the sound of that last one,” Parker said as she finished patching me up—at least my hands, anyway. “We could go back to The Sly Fox. Or out to dinner, somewhere. You did just earn yourself some serious winnings, after all.”

I smiled again. The thought of taking a girl like Parker Jones out made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Important. Like I mattered. Like I could be a normal guy, with a normal—and also extraordinary—girl.

But I was tired. And sore. And as much as I wanted to, I wasn’t sure I could handle a night out.

“What about my place?” I asked her. “It’s not much, but I’ve got a decent couch. And Netflix. And beer.”

Parker blushed. She glanced at my cock again, still jutting against the seam of my shorts. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth. It was so damn sexy.

“Sure,” she said at length. “Your place it is.”

My cock rejoiced, but I didn’t want to get its hopes up. Parker and I were just getting to know each other. That was all. And if I ever wanted to take it farther than that, I was going to have to play it cool.

Although the way she kept stealing glances at my shorts, I got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was intrigued by a little more than my personality. Hey, a guy could dream. And thinking about slipping my dick into Parker Jones was the sweetest damn dream I’d ever had.